


Doorways

by HystericalHerbs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Other, Spoilers, Young Peter Parker, catatonic peter, soul gem dimension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HystericalHerbs/pseuds/HystericalHerbs
Summary: Peter wakes to finds himself in a dimension of perpetual sunset without a sun. When he finally manages to rouse himself from his catatonic state, he finds that he is not alone, and there is one final choice that he must make.





	Doorways

**Author's Note:**

> Major Spoiler warning, my dudes. Avert yer eyes if ya haven't yet seen Infinity War.
> 
> So Peter's ashing hit me like nothing else. When Groot bit the dust, I gave an audible gasp. But when Peter did... well, let's just say that my friends had a lot of consoling to do. But that's nothing special. I mean, if you didn't at least cry internally during the whole "I don't want to go" thing with Tony Stark, I am so sorry for whatever made your heart turn to stone, and you should really talk to someone about that. To be fair, we all need a bit of counselling after Infinity War. *weeps*

 

When Peter opened his eyes, the sky was orange, and cool silver lapped at his arms and sides. The realization of what had happened started as a cold ache in the centre of his chest and spread until it was an empty, gaping hole that rendered him hardly able to breath. They had failed. Thanos had won. All the planets of the universe would be awash with ashes.

Even though he knew it was impossible, Peter thought he would die again in that strange nowhere place. That the unbearable knowledge would crush him until he returned to ashes. He lay there motionless. There was nothing that could bring relief to the despair that thrummed though his being. No amount of screaming or tears could placate the grief that came at him wave after wave. So he was silent. Deadly silent as he absorbed the shock of it all. Silent for all the lost voices.

Time worked differently beneath the orange dome. Day and night did not exist. And Peter did not try to compare the time on the sunset plains with his own, but had he, he might think that perhaps a month had passed already. The silver that reflected the dome did not drown Peter, as he though it would, lying unmoving in the fetal position, half of his face submerged. He felt no hunger, no bodily needs. There were moments when Peter felt connected to his body, understood that it had been a while since he had moved it, but he had no need to, it did not bear any physical pain.

In those moments, Peter thought that it might be time for him to rise and determine what type of dimension he was trapped in within his death. In those lucid moments, Peter realized his form would change periodically. Once, he was naked. Another time he wore his original spider suit of sweatpants and a hoody. Then he was very young, possibly only three, judging by his small, pink and pudgy hands. Peter didn't ponder these transformations long. Quite soon into his awakened moments, his mind would detach, and he would drift, caught in a current of confusion.

Eventually, Peter's mind was able to absorb and embrace his emotional condition rather than hide from it, and Peter slowly uncurled himself like a cat. He eased himself onto his hands and knees, and then stood, teetering unsteadily. Peter did not call out across the expanse of orange and satin sunset without a sun. He knew from staring so long already that he was completely alone. Peter brought a hand to his chest, slumping over the spot as though he'd been injured there.

In a slow hobble, Peter pivoted to look around himself, knowing already what sight would greet him. Only he was wrong. There before him was a set of concrete stairs, wrought iron railing, and red painted door with a stained glass window set in it. It had been behind him all along. After the initial surprise, Peter felt himself tremble at the familiar sight, and finally, tears slipped from his eyes. It was the front door to the home that he, Aunt May, and Uncle Ben had lived in before he and his aunt had to move. Post Uncle Ben.

As Peter crawled up the steps, he realized was suddenly quite small, and dressed in a suit. There was light and movement behind the glass of the door, despite it being unattached to anything. Peter placed his palm against the door; it was warm beneath his skin. He'd be able to reach the door handle only if he stretched. Behind the red wood, Peter thought he could hear voices. They were familiar voices. They whispered to him, calling him by name, he thought.

"If you go through that door, your time here is finished."

Peter started. So he was not alone. He turned to look behind him, towards the speaker–a green woman in flowing purple robes. Her black hair was tied up in an elegant bun, the bright red tips of her locks cascading from the hairstyle in waves like blood.

Peter returned to the door and tried to peer through the stained glass far above him.

"There's no turning back from there," the stranger warned.

Peter looked at her. She stood at the bottom of the steps, her robes and hair billowing.

"I believe that there are people out there–," she said, gracefully climbing the steps towards Peter.

He shied back.

"–heroes, very stubborn ones, who will not rest until what Thanos has done is reversed. And while we are still here, there is a chance for us, and all the others that Thanos murdered, to escape this prison."

Peter hesitated at the door, gazing at this green woman whose eyes burned like a sunrise.She crouched down in front of him and put out a hand for him to take.

"As long as we still exist beyond our doors, there might still hope for us yet. I don't know about you, but until I know that I have done everything I can, I don't plan on leaving life for good." She put her hand out.

Slowly Peter put his own in hers. It was very small and very pink against the woman's long, green fingers. He looked up into her eyes. Serious, blazing eyes, but gentle towards him.

"I don't want to go either," Peter said. 


End file.
